Trial
by Zuben Eldjenubi
Summary: Weeks after the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry gets a court summons as a witness. Things turn out differently than expected... This could have been published as a one-shot, it consists of five rather short chapters. I started this over ten years ago and left it unfinished until today. But it's done now, so why not publish it?
1. Chapter 1: Summons

Chapter One: Summons

"_Dear Mr. Potter, your presence is required as witness in the trial Ministry of Magic vs. Malfoy, Lucius, Malfoy, Narcissa and Malfoy, Draco. The hearing will be held on July 20th, 8:30 AM at the Ministry of Magic. Please report to the reception no later than 8:00 AM for check-in. Yours sincerely, Albert Pointpierre, Department of Magical Law Enforcement."_

The letter had arrived twenty minutes ago. Sitting on the sofa in the Weasley's den, Harry had read it twice. Now he was contemplating the meaning of it all.

The last six weeks had been strange. After the battle at Hogwarts, the only thing he really wanted was some quite time alone. Well, not all alone, he had looked forward to rekindle his relationship with Ginny. However, time had been hard to find. Thankfully, Kingsley had insisted on giving Harry some rest, even if the various department heads would have loved to badger him with questions. Unfortunately, the press had been less forthcoming. It had taken the combined efforts of the Weasley men (and in one especially nasty case, the Auror Office) to keep the various reporters and photographers from beleaguering the Burrow. After three weeks, it had become quite obvious that Harry would not give any interviews. Things had become a bit quieter since.

The funerals of Colin Creevey, Lupin, Tonks and especially Fred had been hard. Though every single family member had assured him they didn't hold him responsible for the death of their loved ones, he couldn't help feeling guilty.

And now, finally, the Ministry had gotten hold of him as well. Silently, Harry mused what to expect from this hearing.

"Bad news?"

Startled by the hand on his shoulder, Harry turned to give a small smile to Ginny. At least some things had turned out as he had hoped.

"Not bad, no. Surprising, maybe. Here, want to read?" Harry handed the parchment to Ginny. She read, her eyebrows arching halfway through. "The Malfoys? What do they need you to witness? Everybody knows they are foul, evil, …"

"Who's evil?" Ron yawned as he trotted into the room.

"Oh, look who's awake" Ginny said mockingly. "Busy night?" Harry suppressed a snort.

"Oh, sod off" Ron retorted, "I'm still on Australian time."

#

Hermione and Ron had returned four days ago. The search for Hermione's parents had gone reasonably well. Being two thirds of the "Heroes of the Wizarding World" had sped up things with the Australian Ministry considerably. Both Mr. And Mrs. Grangers memories had been restored. They had been shocked — to say the least — to hear about their daughter's dangerous year. Ron had valiantly tried to take most of the heat, which had worked to some extent, but had backfired when the Grangers had started to delve into the topic of his relation to Hermione.

Despite the bad start, the situation had evolved surprisingly well. Being put in the spotlight had given Ron and Hermione the opportunity to consider their situation for themselves. As a result, they had decided to spend some more time away from Ron's loving but sometimes overwhelming family. They had traveled a bit through the outback and spent lots of time at the gorgeous beaches. And even though George and Ginny hadn't stopped to take the mickey out of Ron after their return, it was obvious that it had worked well. Ron had finally started to grow up. Stepping out of the shadows of both Harry and his brothers and taking responsibility for himself and his developing relationship to Hermione had done wonders for his self esteem. The insecurity was gone, and for the first time since he knew him, Harry saw Ron actually making plans about his – their – future.

As for Hermione, letting go of things for a while had visibly taken her tension level down. Somewhere along the trip, she had realised that Ron was not a boy anymore and quite capable of taking care of things. From this point, she had started to relax and actually enjoy the trip. As a result, she had learned a lesson no book had ever been able to teach her: letting go of control is not always a bad thing. Much to Harry's surprise, the change had made her a lot more fun to be around.

The obvious fondness she and Ron shared had been deepened and enriched by trust, understanding and love. The constant bickering had ceased – or at least faded into virtual nonexistence. Even George – who had barely started to return to his former self – had to admit that his little brother had surpassed him in terms of maturity. Which of course didn't stop him from making naughty remarks at every possible occasion. Harry found it hilarious, especially since Hermione seemed to try hard to get into Mrs. Weasley's good books, which Harry had told her was ridiculous, as Ron's family had taken Hermione in like a second daughter years ago.

"Still, it is different" she had insisted. "I'm no longer just a friend of Ron."

"So, what are you now, then?" Harry had teased her.

"She's my girlfriend, the love and light of my life, the reason I wake in the morning, my last thought before I fall asleep, …" Ron had chimed in.

"Ugh, that is so cheesy" Ginny had said, faking gagging noises.

"Yeah mate, you really need to get rid of that book of yours, you are totally overdoing it" Harry had agreed. Hermione however thought it was sweet.

"Ah, young love, makes you blind — and brain-dead, apparently" George had jeered before leaving the room in a haste to avoid the spectacle of another snog-fest.

"Honestly, Hermione could give Lavender Brown a run for her money any time now" Ginny had muttered, which caused Harry had escorted her from the room. He didn't mind it that much, already thinking of a way to get a good snog himself.

#

"Malfoy is, to answer your question" Ginny said, returning to the original topic.

"Draco? What happened?"

"Here, read for yourself" Harry passed Ron the letter. _Funny, how they are alike,_ Harry thought amused when Ron's eyebrows arched just like Ginny's had just moments ago.

"You know, Ginny's right" Ron said after finishing. "What do they need you to witness for?"

"Don't know, but I'll find out in, ah …" he looked at the letter again "… about five weeks. Until then, I'll just dump this thing into my trunk and think about more pleasant things" He added with a grin, and pulled Ginny on his lap.

"Ugh, I think I'll be sick." Ron groaned.

"You go grab some breakfast" Ginny quipped between kisses.

Which he did.  
#

Against his stated intentions, the afternoon found Harry pondering the implications of the letter. What could they possibly want from him? Ginny was right, there had to be dozens of people who could testify against the Malfoys. Unless the Ministry wanted to put in his weight as the Chosen One — a thought that annoyed Harry considerably — there was simply no reason to ask him to appear in front of the Wizengamot. Harry's previous encounters with the wizarding world's High Court hadn't been enjoyable so far. With a shudder, he remembered the theft of the Slytherin locket right under the noses of several Ministry officials and even more Dementors – even though the latter probably didn't have actual noses. But even more clearly he remembered his first visit in the court — the helplessness, the injustice — and his relief when Dumbledore saved him.

There was little doubt in Harry's mind that the Ministry was still a collection of bureaucrats that cared little about the consequences of their actions, people that just "did as they were told" — as if mindlessly following orders was an excuse for the atrocities committed during Voldemort's rule. And now, through this simple letter, he was to be part of this scheme of things himself. He had no doubt that prosecution would do a very thorough job to send the Malfoys to Azkaban — requesting the "Hero of the Wizarding World" to testify against them certainly seemed to underline this intent. Of course, the Malfoys, especially Lucius, had been vital supporters of Voldemort. But the uneasy though remained, that the law did not seem to care about morals, about right or wrong. If Voldemort had won the war, Harry was pretty sure the same prosecutor would have gladly asked for a death sentence for the Weasleys. And somehow, he was dragged into this foul game, too. He shuddered again.


	2. Chapter 2: Counsel

Chapter 2: Counsel

"So, what are you going to do?"

Mr. Weasley handed the letter back to Harry and sat back in his large armchair, watching the young man curiously.

Arthur Weasley was not a fool. Some people seemed to take his friendliness and lack of ambition as a sign that he was weak or even a bit of an idiot. His passion for muggle artefacts added to that image. But those who actually got to talk to him knew better. Behind the friendly face was a courageous, passionate and intelligent mind. But most of all, Arthur was a family man. Through the last years, he had watched the young man in front of him grow from a friend of his youngest son to a friend of the entire family — and now to a suitor of his only daughter. But even more important, he had watched the transformation of a boy to a man, through insecurity, anger and hardship. Any other young man, who had gone through the things Harry had survived, he would have considered unstable or even dangerous. Losing his parents at such a young age and in such a terrible way. Growing up with his abusive family, constantly in hiding. And then, year after year, he'd had to fight for his life. But Harry had prevailed. Arthur could not think of any man better suited to his fiery and strong headed youngest child.

Right now, the subject of his thoughts was sitting in front of him, in the Burrow's den. Obviously deep in thought, Harry did not respond to Arthur's question for a while.

Earlier in the evening, Harry had approached Mr. Weasley to ask for his advice. Not only did Harry value his opinion, he also hoped to get some insight into the workings of the "new" Ministry of Magic. After his appointment, Kingsley had started a massive cleansing operation. This had led to some breakdowns, as the minister had insisted on not only replacing the obvious Deatheaters and sympathisers, but also all personnel that had tolerated or even encouraged the torture and imprisonment of innocents. Entire departments had been starved of clerks, but Kingsley had been adamant. That, however, posed a new threat to peace and stability. Harry was very well aware, that the new Wizengamot was at risk to swing too far in the opposite direction. All Deatheaters captured after the Battle of Hogwarts had been dealt life sentences, and Harry was not entirely sure whether that was justified in every case. _It's Stan Shunpike all over again_ he thought. _Why can't these people do things right for once?_

"Not much of a choice, is there?" He finally answered Arthur Weasley's question. "I mean, this isn't an invitation to a cocktail party, it's a summons."

"Well, that's right, but there are always ways, you know. You could ask to give a written testimony. They won't like it, but your name has a lot of weight. You could ask Kingsley …"

"No. If Kingsley wouldn't agree with this, it wouldn't have reached me. I can't hide behind him forever. It was fine to take a break, to catch some breath. But it couldn't go on like this. The minister knows that. I guess this letter is his way of reminding me of it, too."

There it was again. For someone as young as Harry, he showed a remarkable sense of responsibility. He was not seeking it, but he would never hesitate to stand up to it. Arthur was very proud of the young man in front of him, who had returned to staring at the letter absentmindedly.

"And what are you going to tell them, now that you've decided to go?" he asked.

"I guess that depends on what they want to ask me. It's not like there is a lack of stories to tell, you know?"

"You are aware that you could just be a token to add a bit of weight to the case, aren't you?"

A look of annoyance flashed over Harry's face. "Yes, I am aware of that. Honestly, if that is the case, I'll just get up and leave. If they need to use such manoeuvres to convict the Malfoy's, I don't want to be part of it."

Arthur was slightly alarmed. "You wouldn't let them walk away free after all they've done to you!"

"No, I probably wouldn't" Harry sighed. "It's just … you know, I've had it with this kind of plotting and scheming. This is not a game of who's the smartest, who can outwit the other. People suffered and died. Why someone would even agree to defend these bastards is beyond me."

"Well, now, everyone has a right to legal counsel in court" Arthur said.

"I know, and that's not what I meant. I was just wondering who'd take this job voluntarily"

"Oh, you'd be surprised how many lawyers there are that will gladly disregard ethics or moral qualms as long as the reward is right — whether it's fame or money. And money is not an issue for Lucius Malfoy, as you know."

A slight note of bitterness had crept into Mr. Weasley's voice. Harry hesitated. Money had always been a delicate matter in the Weasley family. Arthur did not make a lot in his job, and raising six children had not allowed the family to live beyond the barest minimum. Harry had watched Ron wear a lot of his older brother's hand-me-downs until he had outgrown most of his siblings. Thankfully, nowadays most of the children did not require their parents assistance any more. Bill and Charlie were doing well, Percy made decent money in his job and George, … well, George would make a lot of money with the store, once he was ready to reopen it, Harry was certain. Which left Ron and Ginny. Ron would make his way. He'd already offered George some help with the store, and George would probably accept it. As for Ginny …

"There was something else I wanted to talk to you about, Mr. Weasley" Harry said, suddenly slightly nervous.

"Certainly, what is it?"

"Well, it is … to be quite honest, it is about Ginny. I mean, Ginny and me, that is …"

"Hm, I see …" Arthur said, trying hard not to smile at the obvious discomfort Harry was showing.

"Yes, well, you may have noticed that, uh, we are kind of … seeing each other."

"Go on …"

"Yes, and, ah, … " Harry was in breaking into a sweat. He took a deep breath.

"What I wanted to say is, I definitely see a future for me and Ginny. I haven't asked her yet, and frankly, I think we are a bit young, you know, but I am pretty sure that I will ask her to marry me one day …" his voice was trailing of.

"Pretty sure, I see" Arthur said with all the sternness he could muster.

"NO! I mean, not pretty sure, I mean I AM sure, that is …"

Arthur couldn't restrain him self any longer, he bursted out laughing. Confused and a bit angry, Harry looked at Mr. Weasley's laughing fit.

"Sorry, my boy, I'm not laughing at you … well, actually, I am, but I am not making fun of you" Arthur said when he regained his control.

"I can't see what is so funny …" Harry said with slight indignity.

"Oh, it was just your face" Mr. Weasley replied with a slight grin still around the corners of his mouth. "To be honest, I was very aware of your, hmm, let's say, advanced friendship with my daughter."

"You were?" Harry said slightly alarmed.

"Oh yes. I have raised six boys, you know. I do recognise the obvious signs of infatuation. I knew about Ron and Hermione, too — probably before Ron knew himself."

"Well, that's a relief … sort of" Harry replied.

"If you really worried so much, let me assure you that I approve of your courtship. Molly and I often said that you are like a seventh son to us. I agree that you are a bit young to think about it now, but if you ever decide to ask Ginny, I would be glad to welcome you into the family. Both of us."

A small lump was forming in Harry's throat. He swallowed hard. "Thank you very much, sir" he managed to say.

"No, Harry, I thank you." Arthur said, suddenly serious. "And please, won't you call me Arthur?"


	3. Chapter 3: Trial

Chapter 3: Trial

"Ah, Mr. Potter, I am honoured!"

Harry had reported to the information desk with a couple of minutes to spare. However, he didn't have to wait for long. In a matter of minutes a clerk had arrived, hand outstretched in greeting. They shook hands, and the man introduced himself as Albert Pointpierre, which Harry recognised as the author of the summons he had received.

"We do have a bit of time until the trial starts, shall we go to my office? I'll be glad to answer any questions you may have."

Harry nodded his consent, and Mr. Pointpierre lead the way.

His office was rather small, but in a cosy way, not cramped. Harry took the offered seat, as Pointpierre sat behind his desk.

"Now, Mr. Potter, are there any questions on your side? Are you familiar with the procedure?"

"Actually, I do have a question. Why am I here today? I mean, there must be more than enough people willing to witness against Lucius Malfoy. What do you need me for?"

For a moment, Pointpierre looked perplexed. Then it seemed to dawn on him.

"There seems to be a bit of confusion here," he replied carefully. "I do realise now that the letter you received did not contain that information. Mr. Potter, you are to be a witness to defence, not prosecution."

For a moment, Harry thought he had misheard. "What do you mean, to defence?"

"Well, the attorney of the Family Malfoy, a Mr. Limax, insisted on calling you a witness on behalf of his clients. In his filing, he said …" Pointpierre's voice trailed of, as he shuffled through a folder of papers.

"Ah, here it is: 'In fact, Mr. Potter is the only person in possession of certain information capable of exonerating my clients. As such it is essential to the defence that he be summoned as witness.'" Pointpierre looked up from his paper. "I wonder, Mr. Potter, what information that might be?"

Harry was still pondering that question twenty minutes later as he was sitting on a bench outside the courtroom. He hadn't come to a final decision, when he was called inside.

"Welcome, Mr. Potter!"

For the second time in his life, Harry entered the grand jury courtroom. He remembered the first time, in fifth grade, when he was called in front of the Wizengamot, facing expulsion from Hogwarts. It took him just a second to notice the small but significant differences from his last visit — only three years ago, he realised with a small shock. So much had happened since. It was almost laughable, the problems he had to face then. The changes, however, were welcome: gone were the chains on the defendants chair, bright glowing globes gave an almost friendly light. Harry couldn't help but wonder if this was due to the recent political changes in the Ministry or to the remains of the Malfoys influence within the wizarding world. Whatever the cause, it was a change for the better.

The Wizengamot itself hadn't changed that much, although there were many faces Harry hadn't seen before. Right in the centre seat, an unfamiliar wizard turned towards Harry. "Of course", Harry thought with a sinking feeling in his stomach, "Mrs. Bones is dead!"

The presiding wizard cleared his throat.

"Mr. Potter, welcome to this court. My name is Peregrin Fawley, and I'll serve as the Chief Warlock during this trial."

The wizard took his seat, but continued talking.

"May I introduce you to our prosecutor, Madam Verdant?"

A rather small, elderly witch shook his hand with surprising, yet pleasant strength.

"And this is Mr. Limax, defence to Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy."

"I'm honoured, Mr. Potter"

The attorney of the family Malfoy was also small, yet in every other sense the direct opposite of Mrs. Verdant. Where she was agile, even wiry, he was almost bald, rather portly and had a certain slowness to his movements. His pale blue eyes looked huge behind the thick glasses he was wearing. His handshake was weak, and Harry was glad it lasted only seconds. He wondered it his desire to wipe his hand clean was due to the man's behaviour or his willingness to work for a family as vile as the Malfoys.

"With all the pleasantries out of the way, may we please continue with our schedule. Mr. Potter, I do not know whether you are familiar with the procedure. Just to be sure, let me clarify a few things. You are here in response to a court summons. You are called as a witness to defence. As such, Mr. Limax has first right to question you. Afterwards, if she thinks it is necessary, Madam Verdant may cross-examine you. You are bound by oath to tell the truth in both questionings. Do you have any questions?"

"No" Harry shook his head.

"Excellent. Mr. Limax, your witness."

"Now, Mr. Potter, if you please, let us get back to the evening of 28th of March this year. At that time, you were a guest at Mr. Malfoy's manor, …"

"Objection! This is outrageous! 'Guest' is such an absurd twisting of the truth, it is …" Madam Verdant almost jumped from her seat.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, let me rephrase this." Limax smoothly cut her off. "Mr. Potter, on the evening of the 28th of March, you were at Mr. Malfoy's manor, is that correct?"

"Yes." Harry said curtly.

"Also present were all members of the Malfoy family, that is, Mr. Lucius Malfoy, his wife Narcissa and their son Draco, is that correct?"

"Yes."

"Now, when you arrived, you had been hit by a Stinging Hex, which made it hard to recognise you – cast by Ms. Granger, I should mention."

"Right."

"Mr. Potter, when Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy were unable to identify you, did they ask their son for assistance?"

For a moment, Harry's mind returned to the manor. Draco, standing at the fireplace, almost not looking at him, trying to avoid yet another confrontation, torn between duty to his father and torment at the things he had been forced to do.

"Yes, they did." he said, taking a look over to the bench where Draco was sitting between his parents.

"And did Mr. Malfoy, Draco, that is, indeed identify you?"

Harry tried to remember. "No …" he said slowly, "… he would not commit either way."

"Aha. Mr. Potter, how long has Mr. Malfoy known you?"

Another flashback: a small boy, with exceptionally blonde hair, standing on a fitting chair at Madam Malkin's.

"A little over seven years." he replied.

"As you are in the same grade at Hogwarts, I assume you had shared courses in those seven years?" Limax continued.

"Yes."

"Mr. Potter, would you agree that Mr. Malfoy should be able to identify you, if you were standing right in front of him?"

"Yes, I suppose he would be …" Harry said, as he started to realise what Limax was up to.

"Then why didn't he do so on that night in March? You were there, weren't you, standing right in front of him. Why wouldn't he tell his father who you are?"

"I don't know. I'm not him."

"Let me rephrase that question: if you were in Draco Malfoy's place, would you have told your father?"

"My father died 17 years ago, murdered by Mr. Malfoy's precious Dark Lord!" Harry felt his temper rise.

If Limax was taken aback by Harry's response, he mastered himself quickly. "We are all sorry for your loss, Mr. Potter. However, I must insist that you answer my question: if you were Draco Malfoy, would you have told?"

With an effort, Harry managed to calm himself. "No, I wouldn't."

"And why is that, Mr. Potter?"

"Because it would have been a death sentence."

"And Draco Malfoy didn't betray you either, because he felt the same way." Limax turned to the Wizengamot again. "I think this proves without a doubt, that Draco Malfoy is not guilty of treason or conspiracy to murder. In fact, he put himself at grave danger by trying to protect Mr. Potter and his associates."

"_Did he do that?"_ For a moment, Harry tried to understand Draco's motives. Sure, the risk for Draco was minimal, but he might have gained a lot if he had told the truth.

"If you would be so kind, Mr. Potter, I'd like you to think back to the evening of the Battle of Hogwarts, May 2nd of this year. Do you remember entering the forbidden forrest?"

"Of course I do," Harry said slightly irritated. How could he not remember?

"Excellent. Now, if I remember correctly," Limax said, "in your description of the events, you mentioned that He-who-must-not-be-named…"

"Riddle. His name was Tom Riddle," Harry interjected.

"Certainly, Mr. Potter. He tried to kill you with a killing curse, is that correct?"

"Yes."

"And whom did He…did Mr. Riddle force to verify your demise?"

"Narcissa Malfoy," Harry replied. Suddenly, he started to understand what Limax was trying to do.

"Just as I remembered. Now, please describe what Mrs. Malfoy did."

"She asked me whether Draco was alive, which I confirmed," Harry answered.

"And what did Mrs. Malfoy say to that man, that criminally insane?" Limax asked.

"_Maybe they should have put him into St. Brutus'_" Harry thought, fighting some irrational urge to laugh out loud.

"Mr. Potter, would you please answer my question?"

"She told him I was dead."

"Could she have mistaken you for dead?"

"No, she heard my answer."

"If you had to guess, what do you think would have happened if she had told the truth?" Limax continued.

"He would have killed me." Harry said with conviction. And it was true. He knew that with certainty, just as he was almost certain that this time, he wouldn't have returned, but moved on.

"Esteemed members of the council, you just heard the witness."Limax turned to the wizards and witches in the room. "Mrs. Malfoy chose to protect the life of Mr. Potter, turning against her master. With this act of courage, with which she endangered her family and herself, she made that small but decisive difference that allowed Mr. Potter to win this fight."

"_He is right,"_ Harry thought, slightly stunned.

Once more, he marvelled at the sheer unlikeliness of his success. So many things that had to happen at the exactly right moment. He was sure that Narcissa would have betrayed him in an instance, if she'd thought it would help her son to survive. Still, she'd put her faith in him, the boy, the muggle-born, the blood traitor, not in Riddle. And it had changed everything. For a single moment, Narcissa Malfoy had the power to change history—and she chose him!

#

The rest of the trial became a blur to Harry. He answered Madam Verdant's questions and listened to Limax repeating the countless charities the family Malfoy had supported over the years. When the final verdict came, he wasn't really surprised that it was rather lenient—even though it caused a major uproar and numerous shouts of anger and even fury from the audience. What really surprised him was how little he cared. "_Once more you were right, Albus,_" he thought as he walked out of the courtroom, "_Love really is the ultimate power."_

The thoughts of a certain fiery redhead waiting for him made him speed up his steps.


	4. Chapter 4: Encounter

Chapter 4: Encounter

"Potter!"

Harry kept going, trying hard to ignore the familiar voice that called him from down the corridor.

"Potter!"

"_I'm not interested in you, Draco, just let me go"_ he thought, slightly speeding up his step.

"Harry!"

Was it the unfamiliar pleading sound in the voice or the fact that he had used his first name? Afterwards, Harry could not tell, but whatever it was, it had stopped him in his tracks. Before he could change his mind, Draco had reached him and stopped, too.

"Well, Draco, what is it?" Harry tried hard to get a grip on his feelings when he turned around to face the young man he had known as an enemy for most of his life.

For a moment, they stood there, looking at each other in silence. _"He has changed"_, Harry thought.

"_What am I doing here?" _

_#_

Draco's mind was whirling. When he had noticed Harry, apparently in an attempt to escape from the building before the press got news about this spectacular outcome, he hadn't even started to think what he wanted to say to him. He had, however, felt an urgent need to talk to the young man that he had known for almost half of his life — but now, looking at him, he felt like he saw him for the very first time. His mind raced back to their first encounter, so many years ago, at Madam Malkins'. Against his will, he felt the heat in his cheeks when he remembered his words. So full of contempt for people he didn't even know. So sure of his own superiority, just because he was born to wealth and a renowned family. And his irritation, his anger at the boy next to him, pale and scrawny, with his ridiculous glasses and clothes, that talked back to him when he made fun of Hagrid.

"_God, I was such a prick_" he thought as he remembered his words.

"You could say that, yes", a dry voice said right in front of him.

With a jolt, he returned to the present and looked at the face of Harry Potter, standing there looking at him with a mixture of surprise and silent amusement on his face.

Draco realised he had spoken out loud, and the blush on his face darkened. Yet he felt no anger. _"Strange"_, he thought, _"that I am able to hear him make fun of me without the urge to jinx him on the spot."_

A small smile spread on his lips. "Well, I guess that is fair" he said, and registered with satisfaction the slight widening of Harry's pupils.

"Didn't think I was capable of self-criticism, did you, Potter?"

"Oh, is it back to Potter now, Draco?" Harry had recovered from his surprise fast. "Shame, Harry is my name after all, you know?"

The smile widened. "Yeah, sorry about that. Old habits, I guess"

"So, what is it? You wanted to talk to me or just stand around?"

"I, uh, …" This was hard. "Well, I think I just wanted to, … say 'Thank you?'"

"Did you, now?" This time it was Harry's turn to smile.

"Listen, I know it's hard to believe, and I know I can't expect you to do so, but I needed to tell you this: I'm sorry. I am truly sorry for all the pain and misery I made you live through. And I appreciate what you did here, even though I don't really understand it."

"Well, if we are being honest now, I don't understand it either." Harry said. "I guess it felt like the right thing to do. You know, in some way I actually owed that to your mother. After all, she didn't betray me to Riddle when she could have. Who knows what might have happened?"

"But she did it for selfish reasons! If it would have benefitted her, she'd given you up in a heartbeat."

"Don't be too hard on her, Draco. She did it for you. Funny, in a twisted manner, if you think about it: after all, he was defeated by love, even within his own ranks. Dumbledore was right, as usual. As he was with you, by the way. You didn't have it in you, Draco, and I'm glad about it."

"So am I. What are you going to do now?"

For a moment, Harry hesitated. "I don't know. Help with the rebuilding effort, I guess. Maybe I'll finish school. Do you think Shacklebolt might allow me into Auror training without a NEWT grade in Defence Against the Dark Arts?" A slight grin appeared on Harry's face.

"Well, you come with a good deal in practical experience, that might count for something." Draco replied, suddenly grinning himself.

"How about you, do you have any plans?" Harry replied.

"First, I need to find a new place to stay. Then, we'll see. I thought about becoming a Healer. I wasn't half bad in Potions, and it might be nice to help people recover instead of hurting them."

"That sounds pretty good to me." Harry said. "Good luck."

"Thanks. For everything. And I mean it." Draco replied. He extended his hand, and was pleasantly surprised when Harry took it and gave it a firm shake. Then, he turned around and was on his way.


	5. Chapter 5: Aftermath

Chapter 5: Aftermath

"Hi, my name is …"

"Draco Malfoy, I know." She didn't say in the derisive manner most people who recognised him used. It sounded more like curiosity, with a tinge of amusement.

"I'm sorry, you have me at a disadvantage. Should I know you?" he replied.

"Probably not, but you do know my sister, Daphne. "

"Daphne … what, Daphne Greengrass? You are Daphne Greengrass' little sister?"

"Yes, but I was in Ravenclaw. Caused a bit of an outrage in the family. First child not in Slytherin for over three hundred years! I had to take a lot of teasing, to say the least, but that's history."

"How's that?"

"Well, they couldn't go on and criticise me after the war, could they? I kind of saved the family honour, because I stayed at Hogwarts when Riddle attacked. And now I'm here, trying to save some lives. So, how about you?"

Draco hesitated. This was new to him. He had grown accustomed to dividing people in two categories: those who knew him and those who didn't. The first group usually despised and feared him, the latter was indifferent. As he tried to keep a low profile, strangers were seldom interested in him. But this girl was different. She knew him but talked to him like an old acquaintance. Like a distantly related cousin — which she probably was, he thought — whom you only met once or twice at one of those obnoxious family functions.

"I … try to make amends. You know, I did a lot of bad things during the war. All of my family did. Only I try to do better in the future. I seldom see my parents. Mother understands, but she has to keep up the facade. I don't speak to my father right now." His face hardened when he remembered the last occasion he had talked to Lucius.

#

„That went rather well, I'd say."

The smug look on Limax's face was swiped away quickly, when he looked over to Lucius Malfoy. He was fuming.

„I still can't believe we had to refer to that Potter boy to keep us from Azkaban! The nerve of these people. It is a black day for wizardkind indeed, when one of the oldest magical families in this country has to rely on blood traitors to avoid prison. Shame!"

„Lower your voice, Mr. Malfoy." the attorney urged, a trace of panic in his voice. „It is extremely inadvisable to refer to Mr. Potter as ‚Blood Traitor' in the current political climate."

„I don't care about the political climate, this is plainly wrong! Didn't you register the amount of gold they are fining me? We will have to cut down our expenses significantly in the future, just to keep the manor. And how we are going to maintain the grounds without house elves, I can't even begin to fathom! ‚Forbidden to keep house elves' – Unthinkable!"

Draco couldn't believe what he was hearing. After all that had happened, after the experiences of the last months, had his father already forgotten how it felt to fear for your life? To be threatened by the very people you considered your peers, your friends? Did he honestly still believe in that blood purity insanity?

Images flashed through his mind:

Dumbledore, looking at him through his half mooned spectacles on the balcony of the astronomy tower.

Crabbe, running from the Fiendfyre he had conjured without knowing how to handle it.

Rowle, screaming on the floor in front of him, suffering the Cruciatus curse he'd been forced to cast on him.

Voldemort's snake, devouring Professor Burbage on the table in his home, the home his father was trying to defend.

A sudden clarity came over his mind: he would not return to the manor. He couldn't. All the nightmares, the nausea, the panic attacks he'd had with increasing frequency, they were tied to the manor. Right now, the very thought of setting foot into that place repulsed him. It was no longer his home, no longer the place he remembered from his childhood. It had turned into a monument to everything that was wrong in the world: hatred, arrogance, racism – and death. Not the normal, peaceful death everyone had to meet one day. There was no peace in the way Crabbe had died, no mourning, no loving family.

„… and it's all Potter's fault, I tell you! That snotty little …"

„SHUT UP!"

There was a shocked silence after Draco's outburst. Limax used the opportunity to scuttle away, leaving the Malfoys behind.

„What did you just say?" Lucius stared at his son.

„I told you to shut up. I can't stand it any more. All that nonsense – I mean, look at you! Here you are, you narrowly escaped a lifetime sentence to Azkaban, because someone who had every reason to hate you stood up for you. Harry could've lied. Merlin, it wouldn't even have been a real lie. There was nothing, NOTHING selfless in what mother did. Neither was there remorse on your side. There wasn't any the first time Voldemort died, there isn't any now! Just listen to yourself, complaining about house elves, seeking fault at everyone else. Don't you see what you've done – what we have done?"

„What we have done? What are you talking about? Didn't you hear the Wizengamot? We're free to go. With some annoyances, as I just said, but free nonetheless."

„But guilty. And even if we were cleared of the charges, we'd still be as guilty. People died in our house. Bellatrix tortured a young woman right under our eyes, and we did nothing to prevent it."

„Are you talking about that mudblood Granger girl?"

„DON'T CALL HER THAT! She has more courage than our entire family combined! She stood up for her beliefs. You owe her your life, yet you still despise her for her bloodline? What good is this noble heritage if the result is a missing backbone?"

„That's it young man! You will not talk to me or your mother in this tone. We'll discuss your behaviour at home, let's go. This place makes me sick."

With these words, Lucius Malfoy turned around and started walked towards the fire grates. After a couple of steps, he turned looked back at Draco, who still stood at the stairways.

„What are you waiting for, hurry up. I told you I can't stand this place."

„I'm not coming." Draco said quietly.

„If I tell you to go, you will go. Move!"

„I won't set foot in your precious manor again. Ever."

"Draco, what are you talking about?" Narcissa chimed in. But she knew. Draco could see it in the barely contained look of dread on her face. He could hear it in the slight tremor in her voice. She knew he'd stand his ground this time. And she feared it. In some way, he pitied her. After all, he was free to go. She, on the other hand, had nothing. Except for her golden cage, tied forever to this stubborn, unteachable, broken man. She would never be able to walk out on him like he could. Like he would. He had a world to win.

"Im leaving home. I won't return with you today, nor any other day. I'm sorry, mother, but this is how I feel."

"Now look here, you ungrateful little …" Lucius spat, but Draco cut him short.

"Ungrateful? What in the world should I be grateful for, father? For ruining our name? For teaching me lies about nobility and purity of blood? For standing aside, while this monster you liked to call your Lord humiliated and tortured me? What exactly is it I should thank you for?"

Lucius stood stunned. Then his face contorted with fury. "I gave you a home. I gave you food and clothing. I gave you everything you have, and I can take it from you in the wink of an eye!"

"Then go ahead and take it. I don't want it anymore. It is tainted with blood and tears and death. I would gladly trade every thing I own if I could bring back only one of the people we murdered. I can't do that. But I will try, oh, how I will try to make amends."

With these words, he had turned and left them behind. He could still hear the small sobs his mother made when he turned the corner and saw a familiar figure stride towards the exit.

#

"Well, that's as good a reason to go into Healing than any other I've heard."

The girls voice snapped Draco out of his memories.

"Is it, now? Why, thank you." A faint trace of his old smirk crept across his face as he returned his attention to his Potions partner. He did not fail to notice that she had already started to cut the Mandrake root into tidy little slices. Quickly, he reached for his own knife, leaving his past behind him, intent on the future that had just started to unfold.


End file.
